Inside the daycare center, Ji-Soo sat on the carpet, playing alone with a small pile of toys. Or rather, playing might have been too generous a word. She smacked them against the floor with far more force than necessary, as if she held some deep, personal grudge against the world itself.
Ji-Soo was one and a half years old now.
The reason she was here, in a place filled with noise and unfamiliar faces, was simple enough. Her grandmother had left. She had gone to stay with her second daughter for a while. When her grandmother left that morning, Ji-Soo had given her a kiss on the cheek—a small gesture, yet one she knew very well was a powerful weapon capable of softening almost anyone's heart.
"Ji-Soo…"
Her grandmother had looked down at her with watery eyes, her smile trembling at the edges. She bent down and kissed both Ji-Soo and her brother on the cheeks, then gently ruffled their small heads, as if trying to memorize the feeling.
"Remember to be good to your mother," Grandma said softly. "After I stay at your aunt's place for a bit, I'll come back. How can I bear to leave you two behind when your mother is always out working?"
That last sentence seemed to strike something Ji-Soo's mother. She stood off to the side, her expression calm and composed, though Ji-Soo could tell she had heard every word.
"We know, Grandma. I hope you have a safe…"
Ha-Joon trailed off, his brows knitting together as he struggled to find the right word.
"Trip?" Grandma offered gently.
But Ha-Joon's lips began to tremble, and before he could say anything else, tears welled up in his eyes. He quickly turned his face away, but it was already too late. Mom and Grandma both rushed to console him, speaking softly, rubbing his back.
Ji-Soo, meanwhile, stood still a short distance away, watching quietly.
In her past life, she had struggled like this too—struggled to show affection, even when she felt it deeply. It had taken a great deal of effort, and a fragile kind of confidence in her appearance, just to give that kiss earlier. Back then, her insecurities had often pushed her to withdraw from others, to keep her feelings locked away where no one could see them.
Even now, this was as far as she could go.
"Come here," Grandma said after a moment, noticing Ji-Soo standing off by herself. She gestured gently. "Let me hug you one last time before I go."
Ji-Soo blinked, caught off guard. She hesitated, then slowly walked over.
She looked up at her grandmother, fingers curling slightly at her sides.
Is she… expecting me to hug her first? Ji-Soo wondered, staring up at her face.
"Hug your grandmother," Aera said softly from behind her. "She's leaving."
But I already gave her a kiss?
This is seriously embarrassing…
I guess some things never change, no matter which body you're in.
Ji-Soo squeezed her eyes shut, spread her arms wide, and leaned forward into her grandmother's embrace.
Her grandmother chuckled quietly.
"Oh, my shy baby."
The hug was warm and comforting, lingering just a little longer than necessary. After that, Grandma straightened up, lifted her luggage, and headed toward the car. The engine started, and soon she was going away, disappearing down the street.
"Let's go inside," Mom said quietly.
__________________________________________________________________________
Ji-Soo's POV
As for my father…
He was still the same kind of man he had always been. I had no doubt that he loved me, but more often than not, he felt distant, like someone standing just a step too far away.
In this life too, he left when I was one year old to go back to the U.S.
"I'll come visit sometime," he said. "I'll call, send money, and find an opportunity to bring you all together with me."
Aside from his long speeches about how great the U.S. was, that was all he said before leaving.
I couldn't care less about the U.S.
After all, I had lived most of my past life there.
Once again, it seemed like Mom would have to take care of me—no, us—all by herself.
She was angry at first. They argued more than once. But eventually, she accepted it.
"Just remember to call," she told him. "I'll take care of the children. Just remember that they're still your children."
Her hand pressed against her temple as she spoke, exhaustion written clearly across her face. I already knew how this would end just by watching them argue. He might call for the first few years, maybe even try to stay involved.
But eventually… he would stop.
Then all of a sudden, he would call us and tell us to come.
I closed my eyes and let out a quiet sigh.
That was how both my dad and my grandma had left.
____________________________________________
Back at the daycare center
This is so boring…
With Grandma gone, there was no one left to take care of me at home. I wasn't old enough for kindergarten yet, so Mom had sent me here instead—to a daycare center filled with crying children and constant noise.
I sat on the carpet, surrounded by toys, which was apparently the adult's idea of keeping children occupied.
With nothing better to do, I picked one up.
A plastic green crab, small enough to fit in my palm.
How nostalgic.
I remembered having a similar toy in my last life. Then I picked up another one—a rubber octopus. That one was surprisingly unique, considering most things around here were made of cheap plastic.
"That's mine."
I turned my head to the side.
In front of me was a boy—not particularly cute, his arms and legs dotted with mosquito bites. He was a complete contrast to my own silky smooth, spotless baby skin. That was something I'd always found strange. No matter what, mosquitoes never seemed interested in me.
Funny enough, in my past life, they'd been my mortal enemy.
While I was lost in thought, the boy crawled closer and reached for my toys. I instinctively pulled back, knocking him off balance. He fell, his head bumping lightly against the carpeted floor.
Ah, fuck.
Just as I expected, he immediately burst into loud sobs.
Shit. What am I going to do now!?
The adults are going to kill me!
But… wait.
I'm also a toddler, aren't I?
And a cute one too. Probably cuter than him.
A cute little girl versus a dirty-looking boy—who would the adults side with?
I only needed to do one thing.
I shoved the toys into his hands. He blinked in confusion, then quieted down once he realized he'd gotten what he wanted.
But that wasn't enough.
If he could cry, then so could I.
I started crying too.
"Oh no, Ji-Soo, what happened?" one of the caretakers said as she hurried over, gently patting my back.
I pointed a shaky finger at the boy.
"He—he took my toys." I rubbed my eyes, making my crying look as dramatic as possible. The caretaker glanced at the boy, then down at the toys clutched in his hands.
"Hic—he said they were his… hic—I gave him the crab, hic—but he still took my octopus!"
"Waaahhh!" I cry loudly for the final touch.
The caretaker looked down at me, then at Su-Ho, who stared back with his mouth hanging open like he'd just witnessed something unbelievable.
Serve him right.
"Su-Ho," the caretaker said sharply, "you're a boy, and you're older too. How can you take Ji-Soo's toys? Don't be so selfish—share with her, okay? And…" She paused. "None of the toys here are yours anyway."
That last line sounded oddly personal. She probably had some pent-up frustration.
Su-Ho didn't know how to respond. He just started crying again.
I hated the sound of children crying. Listening to it felt like torture. Before the caretaker could step in again, I crawled over and patted his head.
"There, there," I said softly. "Don't cry. Let's play together."
I even smiled at him.
His face immediately flushed red as he stared at me.
"Remember to be kind, okay?" the caretaker said before leaving us behind, already distracted by the many other children in the room.
Once he stopped crying, I ignored him completely, crawled away, and flopped back onto the carpet.
But like a chick following its mother, he followed me.
I glanced at him, then deliberately looked away.
…Looks like I made a mistake.
_____________________________________________________________
It was almost time for Ji-Soo's mom to come pick her up.
The daycare was already beginning to thin out. A few parents were gathering coats, others coaxing tired children toward the exit. When the front door opened again, Ji-Soo's mom stepped inside with Ha-Joon at her side. He looked far more energetic than he had any right to be after a long day at kindergarten, his steps light with excitement at the thought of seeing his little sister.
They greeted a couple of parents in passing and continued toward the playground area at the back. A small, colorful toy fence marked the boundary—hardly enough to stop anyone determined to cross it.
That was when Ji-Soo's mom, Aera Kim, noticed a woman who looked to be around her age struggling beside the slide. The woman was trying, without much success, to pull a crying boy away from it.
Aera slowed her steps, watching the scene unfold.
She was genuinely amazed.
"That's not something you see often," she murmured to herself. "Who would've thought a kid that small would love daycare so much that he refuses to go home?"
The woman and the boy in question—
The woman, Soo-On, looked worn down, her patience clearly running thin as she dealt with her son's stubborn refusal to cooperate.
"It's time to go home," she said gently, though the strain in her voice was obvious. "You can play on the slide again tomorrow."
"No!" the boy shouted, shaking his head violently. "I don't care about the slide. I want to play with Ji-Soo!"
The boy was Su-Ho.
He wrapped himself around the slide as if his life depended on it, crying loudly and refusing to let go. Nearby, Ji-Soo—who had spent most of the day pointedly ignoring Su-Ho—finally noticed her mother's familiar figure. She quickly pushed herself up from the ground, ready to leave.
The moment Su-Ho realized what was happening, panic set in.
Afraid that Ji-Soo was about to disappear, he let go of the slide and rushed toward her, grabbing her tiny hand with surprising strength. Their hands were both small, but Ji-Soo stiffened immediately. Being held so openly—so clingingly—made her feel painfully embarrassed.
Ugh, what now?
Clinging to me all day wasn't enough—now you want to follow me home too?
That's too much, isn't it?
She paused, frowning slightly.
…But maybe I'm being too harsh. He's just a kid who wants a friend. I hope.
"Um… can you…" Ji-Soo lifted her hand a little, pointing at where he was holding her, trying her best to signal that he should let go.
Su-Ho blinked at her, clearly not understanding a single thing.
"Wut?" was all that came out of his mouth.
Thankfully, Soo-On hurried over the moment she noticed. One look at her son clutching the little girl's hand was enough for her to understand exactly what was going on.
After all, Ji-Soo was undeniably adorable. If someone claimed she was an angel, few would argue otherwise. Her big brown eyes, rosy cheeks, and gentle expression had a way of melting hearts without trying. She was simply—unfairly—cute.
"Son, we really need to go," Soo-On said, crouching down. "Let's not bother your friend anymore, okay? You can play with her tomorrow."
Ji-Soo forced a polite expression.
Please—no tomorrow, she begged silently, though she kept her mouth shut.
Soo-On tried to pull her son away, but Su-Ho stubbornly tugged back, dragging Ji-Soo along with him. Ji-Soo's discomfort was obvious now, her body tense and unsure. Guilt washed over Soo-On almost immediately.
Before things could get worse, Ji-Soo's mother stepped in. Ha-Joon moved even faster, prying his sister free from Su-Ho's grip and placing himself squarely between them. He shot Su-Ho a glare so intense it looked downright murderous.
"I'm so, so sorry," Soo-On said quickly, flustered and bowing her head slightly.
Aera recognized her then. The woman lived on the other end of the neighborhood, just a short walk away. Close in distance, but not in familiarity.
Waving her hand dismissively, the way middle-aged women often did, Aera smiled.
"It's fine. We're all in the same neighborhood. Who knows? Maybe our kids can be friends in the future."
"Haha, I hope so too," Soo-On replied, relieved. "I also have a little girl about your daughter's age. I think they could play together."
Her gaze drifted to Ha-Joon and Su-Ho, who were still glaring daggers at each other, before settling on Ji-Soo—standing quietly between them, looking as innocent as ever.
Why can't my son be like her…
Soo-On could only cry the thought inside her head.